


battered by the waves

by interstellarbeams



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Normal Life, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Meetings, Wyatt saves Lucy from drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarbeams/pseuds/interstellarbeams
Summary: Lucy Preston needed to clear her head, so she went for a drive. But a problem crops up when she ends up in the river. That’s when she meets Wyatt Logan.





	battered by the waves

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Katie for all her editing help (psst i’m a mess)! And Gretchen and Lizzie for their continuing support and encouragement. <3
> 
> I don’t know how Wyatt saving Lucy on the show would have went down or if it even would have... seems somewhat illogical so I decided to work it out in a alternate universe. ;)
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated! :)

The night was cold and wet. Lucy’s wool coat was damp with droplets of rain, yet the warmth of the wool didn’t begin to warm the chill of her insides as she thought of a future without her mother. 

The road was dark in front of her, despite the brightness of her headlights, fitting the moroseness of her mood and the rain lashing against the windshield, the anger she felt toward the unfairness of life. 

She wiped at her face, the radio that she had put on to distract her playing _Everybody Hurts_ by R.E.M. and she switched it off with a unnecessarily harsh flick of her wrist before placing her hand back on the steering wheel. 

She blew out a shaky breath and pressed her foot down on the gas harder than she meant to. The back of the car fishtailed on the wet road and she gasped. Her hands tightened on the wheel, her knuckles protesting the harsh grip as she tried to bring the car back under control. The rain obscured her vision of the road, the thundering of the drops on the roof drowning out the sound of her heartbeat in her ears and all fear about her mother's cancer diagnosis was replaced by fear of a different kind. 

_Why hadn’t she paid attention to the forecast that morning instead of playing Candy Crush on her phone while she sipped her coffee?_

It seemed so silly now, but those few minutes of her morning when she wasn’t rushing around to get dressed and stuffing her laptop into its case before running for the door were the most relaxing part of her day. 

Lucy shrieked as her car hit the guardrail with a noise like the sound of nails on a chalkboard that was amplified by her fear and the adrenaline that pumped through her veins.

Her heart pounded as the car teetered on the edge of the bridge and she felt as if everything suddenly slowed down as her car tipped, gravity working with inertia to pull it over and it went flying out into mid-air. Her stomach dropped to her feet at the feeling of weightlessness as she realized what awaited her below. 

The car hit the water with a booming roar that outdid the faroff crack of thunder and her body jerked against the seatbelt as she flew forward. The car’s airbags deployed, blocking her view, but in the darkness outside the windshield, she couldn’t see anything. But she felt the slow leak of freezing water as it pooled into her car and slowly started filling the cab. 

A iciness that had nothing to do with the river water grabbed ahold of her heart like a vice and she froze, her thoughts that were usually constant stuttering to a halt and the brain that she relied on for everything in her daily life seemed to stop and accept the inevitability of her death. 

She gasped as her car groaned, the water replacing the oxygen inside the metal body causing the sound that brings her back to herself. She yanked on the car door handle but the door wouldn’t budge. 

She pressed the emergency button on the dash, hoping against hope that the car was still running and she could perhaps signal someone to her aid, but in that moment the dashboard lights flickered out leaving her in a suffocating darkness that she had never experienced before in her life. 

Her breath rasped in her throat. The chill surrounding her combined with her gasps for air make her throat feel like it was encased in sandpaper, and she wondered how long she had left before there will be no more air left to breathe. The thought sent another dose of panic into her system as she fumbled with the buckle of her seatbelt. The water was up to her calves and she could no longer feel her toes in the black boots she had so carelessly shoved her feet into that morning. 

She felt like she had been struggling with her fear and her seatbelt for hours, but it had probably only been a few minutes in real time. The constant pummeling of her senses sent her into overdrive as she tried to fight for her life. 

She gasped when she heard a thump against the passenger side window, but she can’t see anything beyond it. The only things she knew for certain are that her car was sinking and that she would drown if she didn’t get out soon.

She heard the thump again and a crack as if the window is being punctured.

“No!” she shouted, but the glass shattered suddenly, water flowing in faster and faster. She knew in that moment she was going to die except now there was a sound. Not just any sound, but a voice shouting at her to go, to swim, but she couldn’t. The seatbelt was jammed.

“I can’t … I — my seatbelt, it’s stuck! I can’t get out!” she cried toward the direction of the car door. She couldn’t see a face in the dark but she heard his harsh breaths, the splash of the water as he presumably swam outside the car and the oath that he swore as he yanked on the door handle.

The door finally opened with a creak of hinges needing to be oiled, but she ignored that thought in favor of trying to unclick her seatbelt. It still wouldn’t budge. 

“I’m scared!” she called out, but suddenly whoever he is was there and she felt the harsh tugs as he pulled at the belt under the water. He swore again and she struggled to stay calm as he pulled something from his pocket and the tugging began to feel like a sawing motion. _Thank God_ , Lucy thought, _he must have a knife._ And she was right because she was free, her blouse floating away from her body, and she felt the cold winter air and the chill of the water hit her bare skin. 

“Come on,” the man said as he wrapped one arm across her upper chest and swam with the other one. He turned so that she was on her stomach, her head barely above the water as he ducked his head to push them out into the open, the weight of the car and the water filling it suddenly dragging it down. The water bubbled around them, foaming from the swirling current and the displaced oxygen from inside the car, and she felt the man struggle as he strained for the shore that she assumed was just beyond their reach.

She moved her own arm trying to help him and the rain still poured, but the droplets reminded her that she was still alive and she couldn’t bear the thought of wishing them away. _She was alive!_

The rain felt like a renewal until her teeth started to chatter from the freezing air and the shock that was likely setting in.

“Th— thank you,” she managed to get out once they dropped to the rocky beach. 

“You’re welcome,” the man breathed out. She still couldn’t see him in the rain and the darkness of the overcast night.

“Come on,” he finally uttered as he stood on wobbly legs and helped her up by a hand under her elbow. Her own legs tried to collapse under her, but he held his own as she wrapped an arm around his waist and he helped her climb the incline that led back to the road.

Damp limbs whacked her in the face but she was too exhausted to raise her arms and push them out of the way as she let him lead her. Dead leaves were slippery under her feet and all of her excess energy went to her leg muscles to keep her upright and mobile. 

The cloud cover broke once they reached the road and she could see a truck sitting there, the door hanging open with a constant _ding ding ding_ filling the night air.

The man led her to the other side and opened the passenger side door before he helped her to sit on the bench seat. In the warm, yellow glow of the overhead light she was finally able to see his face and what she saw surprised her. She had expected a toughened middle-aged man by the sight of the old truck, but he was young, probably even younger than her, with dark hair plastered to his forehead. His warm breath fogged in the cold air out of plush, nicely curved lips and she had to pull her eyes away to focus her attention somewhere else.

 _No need to start fantasizing now_ , she thought, _the man just saved your life and you don’t even know his name._

“I’m Lucy, by the way,” she managed to get out as he felt down her arms like a paramedic and stared intently into her eyes.

“Wyatt. Are you hurt anywhere? Did you hit your head maybe?” he asked, and she felt like she should be at a doctor’s office instead of inside the cab of a stranger’s truck being asked 20 questions.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Everything happened so quickly,” she pressed a hand to her head but, except for a slight dizzy feeling that she assumed was from the adrenaline crash and the tiredness that pulled at her limbs like the sucking water of the river as it pulled her car under, she felt fine.

She pushed that thought away in favor of asking him another question. “How did you know I was down there?”

He walked away for a moment and she irrationally wanted to reach out and pull him back to her, but she stopped herself. He reached into the bed of his truck and she heard the creak of metal on metal of a toolbox opening and closing, then he was back, a worn, plaid blanket in his hand that he wrapped over her head and around her shoulders. 

She grasped the edges with shaking hands that ached from the cold and turned to pull her legs into the truck cab as he reached to close the door. She thought maybe she should be frightened because she didn’t know this man and he could be a serial killer, but by the care and empathy he had already shown her she knew he was at the least not a psychopath. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, the rumble of the old engine comforting her and doing a lot to calm her after her ordeal.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to assume, but I was going to take you to the emergency room to get checked out.”

“No! No hospitals!” She blurted out, another kind of panic setting her nerves on edge and she made to get out of the cab before he stopped her. 

Her hand gripped the door handle, but his hand on her arm was gentle despite the resistance she felt behind it. She looked down at where it rested on her sleeve and he removed it like he thought he had offended her.

“I just — I’m fine, I just can’t deal with another hospital right now,” she added, like that explained everything. 

He watched her in the shadows of the cab and she could feel his eyes like a physical touch until he turned his gaze away.

“Okay, no hospitals, but I can’t just let you go about your merry way, Lucy. What if you do have a concussion?” 

Lucy worried her lip between her teeth, the shock of him using her name lost amid the fear that was rolling through her, not of him, but of the sterile institution of healing that had informed her that her mother may die in a matter of months. She didn’t care if it was irrational, but in that moment she was terrified and she wanted to be anywhere but a hospital.

“Where do you live?” She asked, turning her head and sighing with relief as he turned on the heat and her muscles started to unclench from the constant onslaught of shivers that she experienced since escaping the freezing river. 

“Uh, not too far from here … do you uh — do you want to go there? I can take you, if you want.”

She watched his hands where they rested on the steering wheel, the largeness of them surprising her, and she pulled her thoughts away as they attempted to retreat back to the gutter. _What is wrong with me tonight?_ she thought, _You just learned your mother might die of lung cancer and you almost did drowning, trapped in your car._ Lucy chalked it up to her survival instincts … you almost died now you have to prove you’re alive as soon as possible by throwing yourself at the first available man.

She was afraid that she had spent too long not answering him while lost in thought but he sat patiently, watching her, the brake lights of a passing car shining on his face with a eerie red glow. 

She felt kind of silly requesting it of him, like one of the heiresses on “Dynasty” telling her limo driver to take her to the next big party, but she agreed that he could take her to his place. 

She was surprised how comfortable she felt with him as they drove. The clink of the dog tags hanging from his rearview mirror as they rumbled over a bumpy patch of road was like a strange lullaby and she felt her eyes getting heavy as the heater did its work.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he ordered, waking her from a cozy doze. “You might have a concussion and sleeping is not on the agenda after one of those.”

“Tell me about yourself,” he said as he flicked the switch to the left, and the coolness of the air conditioning hitting her cheeks woke her fully from her stupor.

“Talk about myself?” she asked, wrapping her fingers in the edge of the blanket, “I — _well_ , there’s not much to tell.”

“Oh, come on, ma’am. I just rescued you out of a freezing cold river. You’ve gotta be at least a little interesting. What do you do?” he asked, glancing at her quickly before returning his eyes to the road. 

“ _Do_? Well, I’m in the Masters program and I’m going to school to become a professor.”

“A professor, huh? Sounds like a lot of studying to me. I was never too good in school, but I graduated with a B average, a whole lot better than the D average I started my freshman year with, I’ll tell you that much.”

“It doesn’t sound like you were too bad of a student if you had a B average,” she replied, the click of the blinker indicator interspersing her words as they sat at a red light.

“You don’t know how many of those B’s were worked on in detention, ma’am,” Wyatt chuckled.

“What’s with this _ma’am_ business?” she asked, dropping her hands into her lap and rubbing her hands down her legs, forgetting for a moment that she was soaked to the bone and talking to a stranger in his truck. 

“Sorry about that. I’m in the military, a sergeant actually. Ma’am and sir … they’re kind of a habit. After getting yelled at and forced to do pushups a couple hundred times after missing an honorific, you tend to remember.” 

“Why don’t you live on base?” she asked as they turned down a road and he drove into the parking lot of a large apartment building.

“Well, I love my teammates. They’re like my brothers, but living with them … sometimes I just want to smack them upside the head. That would be grounds for a court martial if my SO found out about it so, as a precaution, I live off base.”

He pulled into a spot and shut off the headlights. The lights of the parking lot didn’t do much to light up the inside of the truck. They sat there for a moment more, a slight awkwardness between them as they got ready to leave the truck and head up to his apartment. 

“I meant what I said back there on the river’s edge. I can’t thank you enough for saving me. I — well, just _thank you_.”

“Anytime, ma’am.”

“Ready to head up?” he asked, after another few minutes of silence. 

“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m sure you want to get out of those wet clothes and I — you really don’t want me sticking around disrupting your night any further. I can — I’ll call a cab.” Lucy tried to open the car door but it was locked and she rested back against the seat, turning her eyes back to his.

“How are you going to call someone? Your purse is in the river and I assume your cellphone is, too. Now, I don’t know where you have been for the last, oh, eight years or so, but payphone’s they don’t exist anymore,” he teased and she laughed with relief, not that she had expected him to attack her or anything but the door being locked had scared her for a moment.

He shut off the engine and opened his door with another awful wrenching sound before he climbed out. He slammed the door as he went and then jogged over to her side. 

She felt bad when she climbed out and saw the large damp stain left on the seat. She opened her mouth to apologize but he beat her to the punch.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just water, it’ll dry.” 

Lucy followed him to the elevator. She felt much better about dripping on the laminated floor than she did about the water droplets she left down the carpeted hallways, but she tried to ignore her worry. Surely other people had been drenched and walked the halls before. 

They came to the door, a gleaming gold 36 indicated his apartment number, and his keys jingled as he inserted the key into the lock. 

He opened the door and flicked on the light, the overhead fixture lighting the small foyer just beyond the door. 

He walked further into the room, turning on the living room light and the one in the small kitchenette while she stood by the door, feeling like a loiterer in his home. 

“You don’t have to stand over there. Here, let me get you a towel.” His voice faded as he walked down the hall and she heard a door open and close.

“Here.” He offered her a towel while he rubbed another one over his wet hair. She reached for it blindly, unable to pull her eyes away from his face. His eyes were a bright, beautiful blue and he smiled over at her, a little sheepishly when he caught her staring.

She dropped her eyes immediately, feeling embarrassed for being caught admiring his good looks. _Was it her fault that he was so gorgeous even when soaking wet while she felt like a drowned rat?_

“Why don’t you uh —,” Wyatt motioned her towards the short hallway where she assumed the bathroom was, “Well, actually, let me get you something else to wear.”

He blushed as he turned away and she felt a unfamiliar glow in her belly. _So maybe I’m not the only one thinking inappropriate things._

She wandered the room while he was gone. It seemed comfortable if not very homey. A battered couch with plump cushions sat in front of a coffee table with worn edges, but the TV on the wall seemed new and high quality. The small bookshelf against the opposite wall held a few books and a couple picture frames with Wyatt featured in them among a group of other men of the same age. She didn’t see any photographs of parents or siblings and she wondered about that absence. 

She gasped and whirled around, crossing quickly to the door. 

“Where are you going?” he asked from behind her.

She turned around with one hand on the doorknob to see him standing a few feet away, a pile of clothes and a pair of socks in his hands.

“My sister! I forgot, I was supposed to pick her up from her friend’s house. Everything seems to be working against me today. She’s going to be so pissed with me.” 

“It’s okay. I’m sure you can call her and explain.” He stepped over to the couch and dropped the clothes onto the cushion before he pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Everything will be fine.” 

She gripped his phone with a desperate hand, her finger shaking as she dialed her sister’s number and put the phone to her ear. He watched her with intent eyes, a concerned frown creasing his forehead.

“Hello?” She heard Amy’s beloved voice after she picked up on the second ring.

“Amy! Hi! I’m so sorry, I know I was supposed to pick you up from Kim’s,” she started when her sister interrupted.

“It’s cool. Actually, I meant to call you and ask if I could spend the night. There’s no school tomorrow and Mom can come get me after her meeting at the university so you don’t have to worry about it.” 

“ _Oh_ , okay, that’s fine. I’m sure. Just make sure you call Mom to remind her to come get you. Alright?” Lucy decided to keep the details of her accident to herself until she could talk to her mother and Amy in person. 

“I will. Okay, I love you. Good night.”

“I love you, too. Good —“ She dropped the phone and passed it back to him. “She hung up. I guess now that that’s settled I can go take that shower you offered.”

Wyatt picked up the stack of clothes and handed it over before he led her to the bathroom door. “So yeah, there should be shampoo and soap in there. Uh — all the good stuff. I’ll be out here.” He motioned down the hall with a thumb and she had to hold in a laugh at the cringing face that he made as he walked away. 

 

————

Lucy welcomed the warmth of the water in the shower, but as soon as she relaxed, thoughts of her mother and the resolute face she had portrayed in the oncologist’s office that afternoon started crowding in. 

She struggled to pull her thoughts back under her control as she scrubbed some cheap but pleasant smelling shampoo into her hair and washed the stink of river water off of her body with the bar of soap resting on the shelf in the shower. Thoughts of Wyatt washing in that very same space brought a heat to her cheeks that wasn’t caused by the hot water and she shut the water off as quickly as she could after rinsing, before she let her thoughts wander even farther into unknown territory. 

She dried herself quickly, the steam from the hot water covering the mirror, but her search for a brush or comb for her tangled mess of hair was unfruitful. She twisted the towel around her hair in order to keep the wet droplets off of her neck and pulled on the tan T-shirt and gray sweatpants he had handed her. She rolled the top of the pants down, the waist obviously too large but she couldn’t do anything with the largeness of the T-shirt besides rolling the sleeves up a little.

She sat down on the toilet lid and pulled on the socks, but with nothing else to distract her, her dismal thoughts came flooding back. _How was she supposed to complete her Masters program, take care of a teenager and deal with her mother’s illness all at the same time? There would be band practices, doctor’s appointments and essays to write._ Just the thought of it all raised her blood pressure and she felt her muscles tense back up. 

She felt helpless as she stared at her blurry reflection in the fogged up vanity mirror. She had no control and no power over the sickness that was ravaging her mother's body at that very moment. No control over the situation that she found herself in, just like how she had felt as the frigid water creeped up her legs as the car sunk into the river. She couldn’t help her mother survive anymore than she could have stopped the car from sinking while she was stuck inside it.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts, and she grabbed a piece of toilet paper to wipe the tears from her face.

“Lucy? Are you okay in there?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be right out!” she replied, glad that her voice didn’t shake and give her away. She didn’t want Wyatt to think he had to do anything else for her. What she needed was assurance that everything would be okay and he couldn’t give her that. 

Lucy stood and tossed the toilet paper into the small trash can next to the toilet before walking back over to the mirror. She swiped her hand across the surface, clearing away the moisture and wishing she could so easily clear away her problems. She made sure her eyes weren’t red from crying before she turned and unlocked the door. 

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to take so long —”

“No, no, it’s all good. I just wanted to make sure you were OK. I mean, you were just rescued from a river. That would rattle anyone. Are you sure you’re okay?” He bent his head, his eyes trained on hers seriously as she stood in the bathroom doorway.

“I’m … I’m fine.” Lucy tried to act like she had everything under control, but she knew she wasn’t a good liar. Wyatt seemed to understand because he didn’t say anything.

He turned to walk away and she realized he had already changed into dry clothes. 

“You could have taken the shower first,” Lucy tried apologizing and he turned back to face her.

“No, It’s fine. I didn’t want to leave you alone in a strange place. Not that I’m not a stranger. I, uh —” Wyatt rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, “I’m really messing this up.”

“No, you aren’t,” Lucy felt warmth flooding her chest that he would care so much about her comfort. “That’s really very sweet of you.”

He smiled at her and she smiled back, a emotion she hadn’t felt since she was in junior year and Michael Garrison had spoken to her for the first time flooding her system. 

He went to walk away again and she suddenly remembered her unbrushed hair and blurted out, “I would really like to brush my hair though. Do you … Would you happen to have a comb or a hairbrush I could use?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Wyatt turned and walked into the kitchen before bringing back a brush.

He offered it to her and Lucy gave it an odd look.

“I haven’t been using it for anything weird, I promise. I was running a little late this morning so I didn’t have time to put it back where it goes. I was having one of those ‘pat your head and chew gum’ at the same time kind of moments this morning.”

Lucy shook her head, laughing at the thought of him trying to rush through his morning routine in order to be at work on time. It reminded her of herself actually. 

She accepted the brush from him and pulled the towel off of her head, her wet locks falling to her shoulders in a riotous mess, and she retreated back to the bathroom to look into the mirror, not even noticing Wyatt’s admiring gaze as his eyes followed her. 

————

Lucy wandered around the living room to the sound of the icemaker in the kitchen while Wyatt fixed her a drink. Her damp hair curled against the back of her neck and dampened the top of her shirt, making her shiver, but she ignored it for the moment.

There was a poster of a football team on one wall of the living room. _Typical_ , Lucy thought as she stepped closer to inspect the faces of the team that were printed on it. The team members’ names were also printed on the bottom and she read them off without much interest, just to give herself something to do. 

Wyatt came around the corner and stopped just short of her, a glass already covered in condensation in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other.

“Are you from Georgia?” she asked him, as she accepted the glass of water from his hand. 

“Oh, uh, no, ma’am. I’m Texan, born and raised, but I was down at Fort Benning for about five years. That’s where I did my basic training and I enjoyed their sports teams so I kinda adopted them.” 

“Oh,” Lucy said and took a sip of her water. She hadn’t really paid much attention to sports teams, and her father had been more of a tennis and golf fan, so she had always assumed that most people went with their home team.

“So, now that you know where I'm from and what football team i’m into ... why don’t you clue me in on some facts about you?” Wyatt asked as he walked over to the couch and sat down.

Lucy frowned but followed him over to the couch. She sat down with her feet tucked under her. She glanced around but she didn’t see a coaster and, after a moment’s hesitation, she set her glass down on the bare coffee table. 

She glanced up to notice Wyatt smirking at her.

“What?” she asked with a huff.

“Nothing.” He smiled smugly for a moment before he set his beer bottle down, too. “You were looking for a coaster, weren’t you?”

“So?” Lucy crossed her arms, wondering why he decided to pick on her all of a sudden.

“I knew it! You’re one of those rule followers.”

“What if I am? There isn’t anything wrong with following the rules or doing the right thing.” Lucy thought maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come back to his apartment since he was starting to act like an ass.

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. I just — I could tell when I pulled you out of the water … that beautiful, expensive coat and your car, well … you’ve probably never had to break the rules for the right reason, is all …” Wyatt trailed off as he picked up his bottle and took another drink.

Lucy thought maybe she should be offended by his assumptions, but he was right. She was a rule follower, always had been. The perfect daughter, the perfect student … always saying the right thing and never saying the wrong thing for fear of causing problems or getting in trouble with her parents, her mother especially. Once you were a stickler for the rules and relied on your perfectionism as a shield against the real world, it was hard to come out from behind its protective shell.

Wyatt probably had a reason to be jaded toward people like her. If his small apartment and shabby furniture were anything to go by, he probably came from a less affluent background than she did. He had probably met girls like her before and they hadn’t given him the time of day because of where he came from. She understood that. Everyone had preconceived notions when they first meet people. That was easy to do, but changing people’s original perceptions was the hard part.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted so offended. You’re right, I am a rule follower.” 

“No, no, _I’m_ sorry. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole when you just experienced such a horrible accident.”

Lucy laughed, half relieved, half amused. “Wow, we’re doing a really good job at this whole first meeting thing.” 

Wyatt smiled, ducking his head, as he picked at the label on his beer bottle. “I’ve experienced plenty of worse first meetings, but maybe not too many that involved my lifeguarding prowess.” 

“You are a lifeguard?” Lucy suddenly saw him in a new light. “When do you find time for that?”

“Oh, I don’t do it anymore. I worked as a lifeguard when I was in high school. My grandpa said it was the best way to keep me out of trouble,” Wyatt shrugged nonchalantly.

“I don’t think I could see it,” Lucy cocked her head as she looked him over.

“Don’t see what?” Wyatt asked as he leaned against the couch and rested his arm along the back.

“ _You_ , a troublemaker?”

“I was banned from my senior prom for drinking on campus. I was sort of lost back then. Getting into trouble got me attention. Even if it was negative attention, at least I knew someone cared enough to get on to me.”

“Why did you think that? That no one cared about you?” 

Wyatt looked back down at his beer bottle and Lucy almost called her question back, thinking maybe she could change the subject. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by being too nosy. 

“My mom died when I was in kindergarten. It was a head-on collision with a drunk driver and my dad, well, he was never very affectionate to begin with, but after she died … he left me a lot to go to the bar and drink so our neighbor Mrs. Barnes would watch me in the evenings. She was nice and she fed me, but she fell asleep in her chair after dinner fairly often so I didn’t have much companionship or even affection growing up.”

“ _Oh_ , I’m so sorry to hear that.” Lucy felt immediate compassion for him but she was afraid to show too much and make him uncomfortable. She didn’t want him to think that she pitied him because she knew how uncomfortable it was to feel pity directed toward you when you didn’t ask for it. It was maddening.

“My parents, they were very career driven, so I didn’t spend a lot of time with them growing up. There was the occasional birthday party that they attended or trip to the roller rink, but mostly they were on campus or in their office with the door closed, working. I lost my father a couple of years back. It was definitely hard … I just, I’m not ready to go through that all again. All the pitying looks and saccharine condolences. I would rather not hear it … again.”

“Why again?” Wyatt set his beer bottle back down on the coffee table, and turned to face her in his seat as he clarified, “Why would you have to go through it again?” 

Lucy stared down at her hands in her lap. The fingernails were too long and she needed to get a manicure, she thought absentmindedly as she looked down at them. 

“I’m sorry,” he spoke up, “I shouldn’t have asked. That was rude of me.” 

Lucy jerked her head up when he went to turn away and for some reason she reached out and grasped onto his hand. 

“No, _no_. I’m sorry. It’s just it’s fairly new. I found out _today_ actually. That’s why I struggle to say it, ’cause what if I say it _out loud_? That makes it so much more real. So then I have to accept it and I’m not ready to accept it, not yet.”

Wyatt watched her, his blue eyes surprisingly understanding, but she saw no pity in them and she was thankful for that. The back of his hand was surprisingly soft under her palm, and despite the newness of their relationship, _acquaintance_ really, she didn’t want to let him go. But she started to think he might feel weird about holding her hand so she let go first.

Wyatt cleared his throat, rubbing his hands down his legs self-consciously.

“I uh — do you want something to eat? Maybe I could order a pizza or … there’s a Chinese food place down the street that delivers. My treat.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’m fine with this.” Lucy took a sip of her water, the condensation on the glass cool against her fingers.

“You just had a huge adrenaline spike. You have to be hungry. If you don’t tell me what you like, I’m ordering for you.”

Lucy glared at him, then sighed. She had met her match with stubbornness, apparently.

“Fine. I like General Tso’s chicken. Do they have that?” 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the spicy type of girl.”

“Well, I am.” Lucy stated, matter-of-factly, daring him to challenge her. 

“No offense.” Wyatt smiled as he stood, pulling his phone out of his pocket and walking into the kitchen, presumably to grab a takeout menu. 

Lucy watched him go, surprisingly not as annoyed as she would have expected to feel over his presumption. Most men would have made her roll her eyes thinking they know what she liked or didn’t like, but she felt his statement was almost endearing. 

His voice echoed in the kitchenette and off the bare-floored living area and Lucy closed her eyes, resting her head against the back of the old couch as she listened to the deeper rumble of his voice. She was so entranced by the tones of his voice that she drowsed, unaware that he had stopped talking and crossed the floor to stand next to the couch.

“Lucy,” he called, the careful repetition of her name finally breaking through her sleepiness, and she lifted her head.

“Hmm.”

“You’re not supposed to be sleeping, remember? You don’t want me to take you to the hospital, right?”

“No, _no_! I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help it.” Lucy felt strangely guilty, like she had somehow disappointed him by unwittingly falling asleep. “Really. I’ll stay awake, I promise.”

Wyatt still stood at the edge of the couch, watching her intently, like he was trying to read if she was telling him the truth. Lucy turned to face him and crossed her finger over her heart in a childish gesture and Wyatt smiled at the sight and sat back down on the couch, filling her with relief and a unusual warmth that felt one hundred times better than the heat of the steaming shower she had taken earlier. 

Lucy picked at the fraying edge of her borrowed T-shirt as the silence stretched between them. The warmth filling her chest slowly ebbed away as awkwardness took over. 

“Uh, how about some TV?” Wyatt asked as he reached for the remote.

Lucy nodded, thinking maybe the TV would distract her from the heaviness that pulled at her eyelids despite her promise to stay awake. She wasn’t even sure if he saw her alacritous, nonverbal reply as he hit the power button and the TV came to life. 

Lucy didn’t really care what was on. She was always too busy studying to pay attention to what shows were on or which shows other people were interested in. Her head was always full of facts from her latest textbook or current coursework and, to be honest, modern television and movies didn’t hold her attention the way that the classics did.

Suddenly, a familiarly melodic baritone caught her attention and she jerked her head up at the sound of Clark Gable’s voice. “ _It Happened One Night_ ,” she turned to Wyatt excitedly. “You’ve seen this movie before?”

“Yeah,” Wyatt said like she was a crazy person for thinking that he hadn’t.

“I can’t believe this! Nobody I know knows about this movie! When did you first see it?” Lucy felt kind of bad for basically interrogating him, but how was it possible that the man who saved her from drowning also knew her favorite movie?

“My grandpa again, he liked the old black-and-white movies and he would let me watch them on the weekends with him after I did my homework, of course.” Wyatt winked at her before turning down the sound a bit.

“Of course,” Lucy smiled brightly at him, some of the pain and anger from earlier that day easing.

“My dad —” Wyatt turned his gaze back to the TV screen. He swallowed audibly, and she wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t have to elaborate, but she felt that maybe he needed to open up about his past. His silence wasn’t a closed-off one, but more like a introspective quiet, as he thought about what to say and Lucy sat quietly, patiently waiting for him to say what he was going to say.

“When he uh — did look up from his bottle of Jack and actually noticed me, he didn’t have many nice things to say. He didn’t think I was worth much, if anything. He told me I wasn’t smart enough to graduate high school. When I decided to sign up, he told me I would never be good enough and would get a discharge separation before I completed basic training. I don’t know why I expected any different, but he was my father and I thought he would be proud of me. Instead, all I got was a sneer before he tipped the bottle back. That’s why, when I signed up, I decided that I would work my hardest to show my dad that he was wrong. When I was recruited by Delta Force I decided that that was my chance to give him, well, the middle finger. That his neglect and disinterest weren’t going to turn me into him. I was going to be everything that he wasn’t.”

Lucy opened her mouth to say she was sorry but she felt like it was silly to apologize for something that she had nothing to do with.

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s alright. I know how shitty he was. But my Grandpa Sherwin, he picked up the slack that my father left,” Wyatt smiled over at her, a half smile, a modest one. “He helped me with my schoolwork, the tough stuff like science and math that I had to study harder to master. He was a good teacher.”

“He sounds amazing. Tutoring you, making sure you stayed out of trouble, and he loved you, I can tell. Or you wouldn’t speak of him so fondly.”

“It’s that obvious, huh?” Wyatt smiled over at her, a newly familiar twinkle in his eye belying his teasing. “The contempt I hold for my father is that easy to read.”

Lucy scrunched her nose up at him, the voices of Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert arguing in the movie a faint murmur in the background, for all her attention was on the young soldier. 

“I get it,” she finally spoke, resting her hand on the cushion in between them, afraid to reach out to him but wanting him to know that she was there.

“I don’t think it reflects badly on you that you feel that way about him. He was your father, you had every right to expect better from him. Your parents are supposed to love you, protect you and want what’s best for you.”

“Yeah … is that why you aren’t ready to accept your mother’s diagnosis?”

“Of course. She’s my mother and I love her. _I_ — I wouldn't want to accept it for any of my loved ones. Facing the fact that you fear for their life, that’s hard. It makes you realize how fragile and minute our human lives are. What if I’m not living my life to its best potential?”

“What else could you be doing? You’re working hard toward making your life better. Going to school, getting your Master’s.”

“I know.” Lucy bent her head, surprised to feel tears pooling at his simple question. 

“What is it? What did I say? I didn’t mean to upset you.” Wyatt reached out and clasped her hand where it still rested on the couch cushion. 

Lucy started at his touch and he went to pull away, an apology on his lips, but she turned her hand over and grasped at his, almost desperately. Needing his touch, to reach out to him _again_ , despite their recent acquaintance. 

She lifted her eyes to his, the tears that had been threatening to spill over trailed down her cheeks, the emotional trauma of the day finally coming to a head, and she sobbed.

Wyatt moved closer. The warmth of his hand against her back as he tried to soothe her and the careful way he approached her eased her anxiousness. 

After a few moments, she wiped her eyes, thankful that she had already washed away all her mascara so that she didn’t look like a complete mess, although she had a feeling that Wyatt wouldn’t care either way because he was that much of a gentleman.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say on a shaky, blown out breath, “I didn’t plan to cry all over you or anyone really. That’s why I was out driving. It was the only way I could truly be alone.”

“That was a really dangerous choice, Lucy.” Wyatt watched her seriously, the TV screen lighting up his features.

“I know. It was stupid.” Lucy bit her lip, struggling with her compunction to blurt out that she wouldn’t have met him if she hadn’t have done something so unusually dangerous, at least for her.

Thankfully, the doorbell rang, saving her from herself. He hopped up, giving her a backward glance before he answered the door. 

————

“Can you still feel your lips?” Wyatt asked, glancing over at her with a teasing smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

Lucy’s heart rate picked up, but she knew that it wasn’t only the effects of the spicy food she had just eaten. High blood pressure didn’t usually come with the side effect of wanting to kiss your dinner partner. 

“As a matter of fact, I can.” Lucy lined up her chopsticks, then placed them on top of her empty plate before piercing him with a playful glare. 

“Are you sure? ’Cause I can’t feel mine.”

Lucy laughed, delighting in the playfulness between them, something she had never experienced on a date before. Not that this was a date, but her other experiences one-on-one with men had been uncomfortably awkward, especially first meetings. Despite the almost dying and the cause of the whole situation in the first place, her mother’s cancer diagnosis, this was one of the most memorable encounters she had had with an attractive man.

She ducked her head at the sight of the smile he directed at her, bright and new like a freshly pressed penny. She didn’t know what to do with this new feeling of happiness or with the look that he was giving her, so she stood abruptly and snatched up her plate and the nearest Chinese takeout container and headed back into the kitchen.

She dumped the greasy paper container into the the trash can and stood at the sink, her back to the living area where she assumed he still sat, to rinse her plate. The running water splashed in the bottom of the sink with a dull but musical thrumming sound as she got lost in the memories of earlier that night when the water was pooling around her in her submerged car. 

A soft touch to her back broke her out of her morbid thoughts and she jerked to turn off the still-running water, in the process dropping the plate she still held into the bottom of the empty sink with a sound of splintering porcelain. 

“Oh, crap! I’m so sorry!” 

“Hey, _no_ , it’s okay,” Wyatt said as he grabbed her frantically waving hands, “Go sit down. I’ll clean it up.” 

Lucy felt horrible, but she crossed back to the couch in the living room and sat down. She pressed a trembling hand to her forehead, nerves clamoring at her senses like clanging bells.

She hadn’t expected to have such a intense reaction to her accident. She assumed that, just like anyone who crashed into someone else’s car and walked away without a scratch, she would be fine. She hadn’t swallowed any water or sustained any injuries if you didn’t count the loss of the car, her purse or her cellphone. The fact that she might experience emotional trauma hadn’t even entered her thoughts, period. 

She wasn’t very familiar with the effects of PTSD. She had never been close to anyone who had a traumatic experience and was unprepared for the unpredictability of the attacks. That it had been caused by _her_ , just a little extra tap on the gas pedal that had sent her careening over the guardrail, had her nearly in tears. _Why must everything crappy happen to me all in one day._

She felt like an idiot. Her ears burned from embarrassment and she wanted to run down the hall and lock herself in Wyatt’s bathroom, but she had already made a fool of herself and she didn’t want to make it worse by also being a coward. 

She looked up when she caught a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye that turned out to be Wyatt’s T-shirt and she rested back against the couch. She wanted to sigh from relief that it was only him. She was probably overreacting, but she also didn’t want to seem weak in front of him. He was a soldier after all. Didn’t they value strength over everything? 

“How are you doing?” he asked as he sat down next to her, the couch cushion she was sitting on dipping slightly from his weight. She had to brace herself with one hand to keep from tumbling into him. She didn’t need another clumsy moment to add to the embarrassment pile. 

Lucy didn’t answer him. She turned her head to stare down at the glass where it sat on the scarred coffee table and watched the condensation drip slowly down the surface.

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting you need help or that you aren’t completely fine. No one is perfect after all. I know I’m definitely not.”

Lucy bit her lip to stop the trembling. The kindness in the softness of his voice and the concern she felt radiating from him like heat waves in the summer air was almost more than she could bear. 

She clenched her fingers tightly together in her lap, the pain she felt in them a welcome distraction, something to focus on to bring her thoughts and her emotions back under control.

She didn’t like not being able to control the situations that she found herself in. It negated everything that she had grown up wanting. She couldn’t control the time that her parents did or didn’t spend with her, the choices that they made for her and her sister, her father’s death or her mother’s diagnosis, but the things she could control she held onto with grasping, desperate fingers. 

But then his hand was there again, warm and firm atop hers, and she clung to it like a lifeline. Her lip started to tremble again and she struggled with what to say or whether she should say anything to him. 

He smiled with understanding, or at least she thought so from what she could see through blurry eyes.

“I know I’ve already said it but,” Lucy squeezed his hand with fingers that still shook but didn’t ache from her attempts at distracting herself from her anxious thoughts, “thank you, _truly._ I’ve always felt the need to be perfect, even when the only person I had to prove myself to was myself.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I get it, I really do. I always struggled harder to prove myself to my father despite his complete and utter lack of faith in me. You’ve done the same thing. You’ve always felt pressured from all sides, but still you’ve persevered and strived to do the best that you can.”

Lucy dropped her head, her damp hair skating across her cheek as it flopped forward over her shoulder, and she reluctantly released Wyatt’s hand to push the locks back. 

“I can’t say anything for your father’s opinion of you, but you saved me tonight, fed me, made sure I was okay physically and emotionally … to me you are the epitome of a hero. You _did_ succeed. So, yeah, I think I can say that your father’s opinion was wrong.”

It was Wyatt’s turn to duck his head and shy away. Lucy had a feeling that he was uncomfortable with any sort of praise after the raising he had from his father. The way he spoke about his grandpa though, his voice so full of fondness and gratitude, made her hope that maybe his childhood hadn’t been completely horrible. 

The fact that he still carried such empathy and kindness inside him after all that he had been through was a testament to his character and fortitude. Lucy decided then and there that if she could emulate Wyatt’s steadfastness after everything that he had been through, then maybe she too could get through the storm that life was lashing her with, like the rain dashing against the window of her now destroyed car. 

Lucy tucked her hands into the excess fabric of Wyatt’s T-shirt, the clean scent of the laundry soap filling her nose and sparking a memory of the white sheets that smelled of fresh cut grass and sunshine when her grandmother would take them down from the clothesline behind her house. She stayed quiet, the silence comfortable and not strained. It was almost soothing and she didn’t want to disturb it by speaking.

————

 

Her footsteps, softened by her borrowed socks, barely made a sound against the hardwood floor of the hallway. The light that had shone brightly into the hall an hour earlier was switched off and she fumbled to find it on the wall beside the door, the unfamiliarity of the bathroom causing her to struggle more than she would at home, where every flick of a light switch was second nature. 

She finally managed to find it and the room was lit immediately, but the clothes that she had expected to find on the floor where she had left them (what a horrible guest she was to leave her clothes strewn across the gleaming subway tile) weren’t there.

“ _Wyatt?_ ” she called, her voice echoing slightly in the sparse bathroom. “Where are my clothes?”

“Crap, I’m sorry. I meant to tell you. I put them on to wash.”

“To wash?” Lucy looked at him and then at the one open door of his bedroom. 

“It’s right here,” Wyatt chuckled as he opened the door of the linen closet. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Lucy shook her head, dropping her fists from where she had rested then against her hips. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to diss your ability to wash clothes or anything.”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings and I’m pretty sure the washing machine can’t hear you. You’re good.”

Lucy rolled her eyes before peeking around the edge of the door to see the stackable washer/dryer unit inside the smallish closet.

She gasped quietly at the sight of her blue coat, the beautiful, pale blue coat that her mother had just given to her a few months before as a Christmas gift, splotchy with water, mud and bits of grass.

“Oh, no!” She snatched up the wool, heavy with the river water that it had been immersed in, “My coat.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I — I don’t think it’s fixable.” Wyatt scratched the back of his neck, one hand resting against his hip.

Lucy turned to Wyatt with desperation, “My mother bought me this coat for Christmas.”

Wyatt stayed silent. She assumed his normal reaction would have been, “That sucks,” but he didn’t want to react indifferently so he kept it to himself. Lucy didn’t know why she expected him to fix it. He had done enough by saving her life. She had gotten herself into the predicament and the loss of her mother’s gift was her penance. 

“What if she never buys me a Christmas gift again?” Lucy asked, tears slowly dripping down her cheeks.

“Lucy? Hey? You can’t dwell on the what ifs, okay? That won’t make a difference and you’ll stew over it until you become a bitter, angry person.”

Lucy knew Wyatt was right but she irrationally wanted to thrust the coat away from her and collapse into a heap of tears like a child throwing a tantrum. 

She wanted to feel sorry for herself, but she didn’t want to falter, she wanted to stay strong, like him. She couldn’t break the promise she had made to herself so soon. Her mother would understand the loss of the coat, but the loss of her daughter would have been a harder loss to take. It was only a coat after all and even though her mother had given it to her, it didn’t mean that she had lost her mother because the coat was ruined. Her mother may be sick, but she was still there and Lucy wouldn’t begrudge any of the time that they had left to spend together by feeling sorry for herself.

Lucy brushed at the sticky tears on her face with the back of her hand, sniffling as her nose also tried to drip. 

Wyatt’s steady presence was comforting despite his silence and she lifted her head, attempting to smile at him despite the trembling of her lip.

“Here,” he reached into the linen closet and pulled out a hand towel, which he offered to her.

“Thanks,” Lucy managed to get out through her clogged throat as she accepted the soft, green towel and pressed it to her eyes. 

She felt a touch to her shoulder. Wyatt’s large hand was warm and tender and she wanted to burst into tears again, the seesawing of her emotions giving her a headache, and she hoped that she wasn’t overstaying her welcome or pressuring him to continue to be there for her. 

She had only wanted to be alone when she found herself on that dark, wet road, but fate had other plans, plans that apparently included the young man in front of her. She thought that maybe she should be afraid, not of him, but of the feelings that fluttered in her stomach when he reached out and wrapped her slight form into his arms. This, _this_ was more dangerous than playing with her life. Her heart was much more fragile. She couldn’t convince herself to pull away, though.

Lucy had always been a tactile person, even when she was a pre-adolescent and her baby sister would complain to their mom with the age-old adage of “she’s touching me.” It hadn’t been Lucy’s intention to bother her sister, but the comfort of human touch was something that she craved. She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that his touch was welcome _and_ comforting. With his arms around her and her chin tucked up against his shoulder, Lucy felt like she had known his touch her whole life and that they weren’t newly acquainted. 

She made herself pull back after a moment, the inrush of cool air causing her to shiver after the loss of his body heat.

“Are you cold?” Wyatt asked, his one hand trailed down her shoulder and grasped her by the upper arm, squeezing it before dropping his hand.

Lucy nodded her head, relieved that she hadn’t had to ask and feel even more needy than she already did after crying all over him. 

Wyatt walked the few feet to his bedroom and came back almost immediately with a flannel shirt that he helped her into, the soft cloth warming her arms and the scent of cologne wafting off of it wrapping her in its embrace. 

“Thank you.”

Lucy stood there for a few seconds, the memory of her moment of emotional fragility making her blush and she looked for something, anything to distract her from her outburst playing out over and over again in her head. Finally, a thought clicked and she blurted it out without even thinking: “Do you have anything sweet?”

“Like, dessert-wise?” She elaborated when he gave her an odd look.

“Uh,” Wyatt trailed off, “I’m not sure. I’m not usually one for snacking unless it’s a handful of nuts or a protein shake.”

“You ran out of spinach, huh?” Lucy teased as she followed him to the kitchen, tying up the bottom of his flannel shirt as she went. 

“That’s Popeye. He’s a sailor. Do you see an anchor tattoo anywhere on me?” 

Lucy didn’t see any tattoos on his exposed skin, but the muscles in his forearms were enough of a distraction for her. She pushed a curling strand back from her cheek and tried to remember her own name.

Pulling herself from admiring his physique, she realized he was staring at her.

“Uh, good point!” she managed to get out, praying that it made sense. 

Wyatt gave her a bemused look. Turning, he opened the cabinet above the fridge. Lucy stretched up on her toes, catching sight of something orange.

“Is that a jack-o-lantern?” 

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Wyatt looked down at her seriously, the bucket handle clutched in his hand.

“No,” Lucy dragged out the vowel, tucking her hands into her sweatpants pockets. “It just seems kind of strange for a bachelor to have a jack-o-lantern bucket in his cabinet.”

“So I’m a bachelor now?” Wyatt smirked at her. His hair was mussed on top and Lucy struggled with the urge to run her fingers through it.

Lucy didn’t know how to continue their round of bantering. His closeness continued to fluster her and the smirk that he kept sending her way filled her stomach with eager butterflies.

She wasn’t sure whether Wyatt knew what kind of effect he was having, but a young man with his looks must have some inkling of what his dimpled smile could do to a poor, unsuspecting woman. 

“Do you still want something sweet or …?”

“Yes, of course, I —“ Lucy paused, the twinkle in his eye giving away his teasing that she had been too distracted to notice through his tone.

“You’re so, ugh,” Lucy pushed a hand through her hair, scattering the neatly hanging strands. “I’m starting to realize why you don’t have a roommate.”

She was afraid she may have inadvertently insulted him, but Wyatt just brushed it off and offered her a glimpse inside the bucket.

“Ooh, are those Snickers?” she asked, recognizing the brown wrapper with distinctive blue lettering. “Snickers are my mother’s favorite.”

“Well, here, take as many as you want. Take some back to her. I’m not going to eat them.” 

“Thank you.” 

Lucy felt greedy grabbing up a handful of candy, but Wyatt was offering and he didn’t want them. Obviously, he didn’t have a sweet tooth or he wouldn’t still have the candy sitting in his cabinet untouched after so many months. 

She really ought to start ignoring these feelings that fed her need to be a perfectionist. Wyatt didn’t seem to think there was anything the matter with her, but he wasn’t inside her head where all her thoughts rolled over and over, like boiling water in a pot. 

“Lucy, are you okay?” 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Lucy cringed at how high her voice sounded. She was obviously lying and Wyatt could probably tell, even without his Special Forces training. 

“You’re a terrible liar. You know that right?” Wyatt asked, echoing her thoughts and once again surprising her with his intuition. 

“Mmhmm,” Lucy nodded, opening the Snickers and taking a huge bite, hoping to avoid his question.

She chewed her candy, the nougat, caramel and crunchy peanuts satisfying her sweet tooth, but she knew it wouldn’t meet her newfound need for him. The unexpected thought floating through her head like flotsam on the tide caused her to swallow too quickly and she choked, her eyes watering at the intense coughing fit.

“ _Dammit_ , Lucy, will you stop trying to kill yourself?” Wyatt gritted out as he pounded her on the back. 

Lucy couldn’t help the comment that popped out when she could finally breathe again.

“Maybe I was hoping for some of that mouth-to-mouth. I’m sure you’ve had a lot of practice.” 

“You don’t need to actually choke for that to happen. All you had to do was ask.” Wyatt replied, the twinkle in his eye replaced by a warmer, more dangerous spark. 

The hand that he had used to pound her on the back suddenly turned softer and the eyes that she had tried so desperately to look away from in embarrassment pierced her so that she felt like she couldn’t move, frozen to the linoleum. 

He bent his head closer so that his stubble was clearly visible to her eyes, her fingers twitching with the longing to touch his face, and she knew she was in real trouble.

“Lucy,” his voice trailed off. His blue eyes trained on hers then drifted down to her lips before he brought his gaze back up, his breath ghosting against her lips. “Do you mind if I ask your last name?” 

“No,” Lucy replied, her voice sounded like a whisper as her heart pounded rapidly in her chest and blood beat in her ears. 

“No, you don’t want me to know your last name?”

“No, I mean, _yes_ , I —” Lucy didn’t even know what question she was replying to.  
He might have saved her from drowning in the river, but now she was in danger of drowning in the ocean of his eyes. 

Wyatt frowned and Lucy wanted to laugh at the sight of his confusion, but he had her just as befuddled with his closeness, the warmth of his palm against her back distracting her from her own thoughts.

He went to pull back and Lucy just reacted, grabbing onto his face with both hands. “Preston. It’s Preston,” she blurted out, cringing at the desperation she felt like she was showing.

“Lucy Preston, huh?” He smirked at her, a dimple that she hadn’t noticed before popping out in his cheek. “Forgive me, ma’am, but I didn’t think it was right to kiss you without knowing your full name.”

“Ah,” Lucy pulled back, her hands slipping down his cheeks, “then I think you should probably reciprocate.”

“It’s Logan.” He pulled her back in, his hand moving lower as he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Wyatt Logan.”

Lucy’s heart continued it’s galloping race at the hardness of his arm against her back, his T-shirt under her hands a sharp contrast of softly worn cotton. She couldn’t hold in a giggle at the statement of his name, though, which reminded her of a pop culture spy.

“What’s so funny?” 

“It’s just you sounded a lot like 007.” Lucy bit her lip as she stared up at him, wondering when they could get back to where they had left off.

“Is that a bad thing?” His brow relaxed as he asked the question, the fierceness of his hold on her loosening as he got distracted.

“Not necessarily, although he is a womanizing misogynist, so you might not want to send out that type of message.” 

Wyatt huffed out a laugh and she hoped he was amused by her frankness and not offended because she hadn’t meant to insinuate that he was a womanizer. _Wow, he must think I’m such a mess._

“You didn’t offend me if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Lucy wasn’t sure what kind of training went into being a Delta Force soldier, but the fact that he could so easily read her face was at once impressive and somewhat terrifying. In other ways, maybe it was a good thing. Hopefully, he could see how much he affected her and she wouldn’t have to tell him, straight away, how he had captured her attention so quickly. _Was it weird to be feeling such things so soon? What if he didn’t feel the same way? ___

____

____

“You know, you think too much, Lucy _Preston_.” 

“Well, if I do it’s not really my fault, is it?” she retorted saucily.

“Are you trying to say it’s my fault?” Wyatt narrowed his eyes at her before looking her up and down. “I guess I’m not trying hard enough then.”

“What?” Lucy wasn’t sure what he was getting at but the butterflies in her stomach dissolved into a swirling whirlpool at the want that was evident in his eyes. 

Suddenly, she wasn’t all that interested in talking and she suspected that Wyat felt the same way. He pulled her in closer and she got lost _again_ in his intoxicating closeness. 

His breath was close enough to feel against her lips and she closed her eyes, afraid to see her own destruction coming toward her like a tsunami heading for the shore. Her feelings were being battered by the waves and she knew that she should be afraid that maybe this man, whom she had just met today, wasn’t the right one to trust with her heart, but she didn’t care. He had saved her and if her heart was the price that she would pay, then she was okay with that. It was time for Lucy Preston to release those tightly clenched fingers and let go.

The first touch of his lips was tentative, but her breath caught anyway, the press of the lips that she had first noticed in the faint light of his truck’s cab was like a shock to her system. Her fingers dug into his T-shirt desperately as the pressure increased and she responded in kind.

He pulled back after a few moments and she opened her eyes slowly to see him staring down at her, the dimple in his cheek begging for her touch.

“Is that it?” she asked, her voice coming out quiet and breathless.

Wyatt cocked his head, the slow smile that he sent her igniting her insides, and she didn’t wait for a reply before she was pressing up on her toes and capturing his lips again. 

The scrape of his stubble against her bottom lip was a slow torture and the careful movement of his hands as he pulled her in closer was almost more than she could bear. He had one hand pressed up against the back of her neck and she tipped her head back, the changing angle almost doing her in, and she moaned low in her throat.

The sound that she made must have urged him on for he went to turn them, presumably to press her up against the closest surface, when Lucy’s foot caught against something and she almost tripped.

“Shit,” Wyatt swore as he clutched her closer to him, trying to keep them both from going down onto the hard, linoleum-covered floor.

Lucy glanced down to catch sight of the stupid jack-o-lantern bucket spinning in the middle of the floor. She laughed, the humor of the moment distracting her momentarily from his closeness.

“It looks like you’re going to have to keep saving me.”

“Looks about right, ma’am,” he smiled down at her, the brightness of his smile lighting his face like sunshine on the first day of summer. “Although I can’t be blamed for your first accident. We didn’t know each other then.”

“We don’t know each other now,” Lucy teased, stroking one finger across the stubble on his cheek.

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy that. When can I see you next?”

“Let’s talk about that later,” she ventured as she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

“Later sounds good, but so we don’t have to worry …” Wyatt scooped Lucy up in his arms and started out of the kitchen, “we will probably be safer on the couch.”


End file.
